


there are probably a thousand better things we could be doing right now

by santanico



Series: coming to terms with the unexpected and the unconditional [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Self Confidence Issues, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate is bitter and Clint sucks at being a person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there are probably a thousand better things we could be doing right now

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually written before part 1 of the series so it should make sense out of order, but if you like the idea and want to read sex, go for it!

“Do you want some?”

Kate blinks and looks up from the newspaper, spread out on Clint’s kitchen table. “Um.”

“Coffee,” he offers, picking up the pot and raising an eyebrow. “Do you. Want some. Coffee?”

“Of course,” Kate says, not looking at him. “I always want coffee.”

Clint turns back around and pulls two mugs from the cupboard. Kate stares at the newspaper, the headline about a library fire early that morning. No one injured, about three hundred books lost. One room severely damaged but everything else in tact. Investigation into cause still ongoing.

“Maybe someone left the stove on,” Clint says quietly as he sets a mug in front of Kate. She glances up at him and presses her lips into a thin line, then checks her coffee. It’s just a little lighter than black, a deep and perfect brown with just a little bit of cream, just like she likes it.

“Thank you,” she says instead of commenting. Clint shuffles across the kitchen and opens the refrigerator for a beat before closing it. He’s holding his mug of coffee by the handle and taking careful sips. Kate hears him hiss when it’s too hot and burns his tongue, and she hides a smile.

She drinks from her own mug and watches him meander about.

“Why are you still here?”

“Excuse me?” Kate looks up. Clint has bags under his eyes. He’s leaning against the counter, mug near his mouth, and Kate notices the scruff on his chin. She shivers, but it’s just because there’s a draft.

“I said, why are you still here, Katie?”

“Do you want me to go?” It echoes the conversation from last night and makes her chest ache just a little bit.

He narrows his eyes. He has a band-aid on his jaw, closer to his ear, with dinosaurs on it. She narrows her eyes right back.

“That’s not what I said.”

She shrugs and sets her coffee down, folding the newspaper over and standing. “Thanks for the coffee,” she says, trying to make her voice sound just a little less dull. She keeps her eyes away from Clint. “I’ll see you.”

“Kate,” Clint says, and he moves faster now, to the doorway where Kate had been headed. He wraps his fingers around her wrist and tugs her but it’s too gentle. Still, Kate feels small and she turns to face him but ducks her head. “Please don’t go.” Everything is reminiscent of the night before, too similar and maybe the consequences won’t be the same and maybe they should be, maybe they shouldn’t. Kate is angry, but mostly she’s sad. A little abandoned.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions, then.”

They stand in the doorway and Kate finds it hard to look Clint in the eye. “Hawkeye,” she says, starting to improvise as the panic churns, “What’s your favorite color?”

Clint hesitates and drops Kate’s arm. She could sprint out, grab her bike and be gone and he wouldn’t be able to catch up with her, even if he did manage to grab a taxi – but for some reason, she doesn’t. She just waits.

“Pur…ple?” he finally answers, frowning like it’s a trick question. Kate folds her arms over her chest and looks down. His feet are bare. His jeans are loose. And he’s hovering. “It’s our thing.”

“No, it’s your thing and it’s my thing,” Kate snaps. “There isn’t any we. I’m not your shadow.”

Clint looks confused again and Kate can’t blame him but it still makes her angry. “Katie-Kate,” he says, reaching out to brush his fingers along hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” she says loudly, pulling her hand away from his. “It’s you, Clint. It’s always gonna be you. It’s never going to be us.”

This time when Clint reaches for her she can tell he’s more certain, and she doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t really have to lean down to catch her mouth but the kiss still feels awkward. Kate squeezes her eyes shut and lets the stubble scratch against her jaw as Clint tries to find a way to fit around her. His hands find her waist. He holds her. She kisses him back, soft and yielding.

It’s not a first kiss, but it feels like it should have been.

“I’m so sorry,” Clint says, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. She looks away and he breathes against her neck, hugging her. “It was my fault, we shouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s not,” Kate says, resting her chin on his shoulder. His lips are warm against her neck, and his hands spread along her back, keeping them both steady. “We slept together, so what.”

“So, I know I shouldn’t have ever done that,” Clint says, but his teeth scrape along her neck and she shudders again. “I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.”

“You’re an idiot,” she offers weakly, resting a hand in his hair and tightening her fingers. “Who do you think you are, huh?” she murmurs, and he’s kissing along her throat, her pulse, her jaw, her hairline. His mouth flutters over her face and scratches along her skin. “Do you really think you’re that important to me? You left me sleeping alone.”

“Hawkeye,” he says in a low voice, and his hands dip down to the backs of her thighs. She had forgotten what _she_ was wearing up until this very moment, and his hands on her bare thighs, under the hem of her skirt, rings true to every memory from the night before. “I think I’m more important than you let on.”

He lifts her by her thighs and Kate scrambles a little to get her arms around his shoulders. She gasps as he carries her into the small living room and presses her back against the wall. She feels – safe. Clint has strong arms. She leans back, pressing her head against the wall, and stares at him. His eyes are hungry and his lips are dry again. She kisses him without fear this time, licks into his mouth and he opens easily, pressing their bodies together. The tiny bits of friction are making her shake and she squeezes her legs around Clint’s waist. She can feel him through his jeans right up against her skirt, bunched between her legs. It’s awkward but hot as hell, and Kate’s breath is coming in hard gasps.

“Here? Right here?” Kate breathes, clinging to Clint’s t-shirt.

“I don’t know,” he says, fingers digging into her thighs. It hurts but it’s a good hurt, and he pushes up against her again, hard cock between her legs and she hits her head against the wall. “Is it too much?”

“Shut up,” Kate hisses, “Fuck. Do you have a – fuck.”

“Condom?” Kate slides down the wall as he lets her go but he legs nearly buckle. “Um.”

“You fucking idiot,” she whispers, managing to laugh. “Find a fucking condom!”

Clint gives her a sheepish look and stumbles away, leaving her to catch her breath. He comes back a minute later from his bedroom, waving the wrapper at her with a lopsided grin.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else?” he asks and Kate lets out a loud sigh. “Okay, fine, no, right here. Sounds good.”

He shifts into her space again, but he hikes her skirt up first. She follows his lead by pulling her panties down her thighs and he helps her get them the rest of the way off, leaving them on the floor. Kate hides her face as one of his hands squeezes her ass, and she focuses instead on unbuttoning and unzipping Clint’s jeans.

“Don’t take them all the way off,” she demands as he tugs his jeans off his hips. He nods and his boxers follow. His dick is still hard, or hard again, Kate isn’t sure. She can’t help but look at it and let out a breath as she watches Clint lick his own palm and start to jack himself off.

“Shit,” she says, “Hurry.”

Clint grins and lets go of his cock, opening the condom. Kate watches him slide it on and she forces herself to breathe deeply as he gets close again. His fingers reach between her legs first and she lets out a whine as he slips two fingers inside.

“That was easy,” Clint murmurs, fucking her with his fingers for another few seconds before pulling out and rubbing her clit. “You’re so wet. When did that happen?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she whispers, “just fuck me.”

Clint is smiling but he obliges, and his cock feels better this time than it had last night. He picks her up by her thighs again, tight hands on her skin as he slowly slides in. It’s almost too much, Clint’s hips rocking into her, his cock filling her up. The position is less awkward than she had thought, but maybe it’s just because she’s so turned on she can barely think about the wall behind her.

They fuck slow at first, Clint being a gentleman and letting her get used to him again. Eventually she has to beg him to go faster and he teases her with rolls of his hips, a perfect angle that rubs against her clit just enough to make her body shake. “You’re perfect,” he says, bites into her shoulder gently. She gasps. He manages to hold her up with her legs around his waist and get a hand between them, rubbing her clit harder now. She forgets where she is, lost in the rolling waves of heat that overwhelm her. Clint’s strokes are perfectly in timed with his thrusts and he works her over until she’s gasping his name, saying _please_ too many times without asking for anything specific. But he gets it. He fucks her so hard that the world seems to shatter, and she’s whimpering when she comes, clenching around Clint’s cock so hard that he stops for a minute. She’s still coming down from her orgasm, thighs and fingers and cunt twitching as Clint drives his hips into her, sporadic thrusts that get him off in her aftershocks.

“Fuck,” they both whisper at the same time, and Clint is buried in her, shuddering with the last of his orgasm. He pulls out and Kate whimpers, sliding down the wall again, except this time she hits the ground. She leans her head back again and catches her breath as Clint adjusts himself and throws out the condom. When he comes back his jeans are back on and he’s looking at her with a half smile. He picks Kate off the ground, bridal style, and where she would normally complain she leans against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Kate mumbles, ignoring the tears that are back to stinging her eyes. “Where are we going?”

“To bed,” Clint says, rolling her onto his bed and sitting on the edge. Kate grabs a pillow and hugs it, though she’d rather be hugging Clint – but maybe post-coital cuddling isn’t really his thing. He certainly hadn’t stuck around long last night. She hugs the pillow closer and curls around herself, but the sudden bout of sadness seeps right in.

“Katie?”

“What?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

His hand touches her back and starts to rub small circles. “I’m sorry about last night,” he says, and she feels the bed creek and shift with his full weight. Clint is lying next to her, on his back if she’s correct. “I’m sorry I left. You fell asleep and I had to…get out.”

“It’s okay,” she lies.

“It isn’t.”

“It’s okay,” she lies again, means it just a little bit more. He’s touching her hair now, brushing it off her neck. He plants a kiss under her jaw. “What happened?”

“I had a panic attack or something,” Clint says against her skin. “I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t _you_?” he asks, but chuckles. “I thought maybe you just wanted to forget it ever happened. I wouldn’t blame you. I’m not really a catch.”

“Did you think I just wanted a quick fuck?”

“Maybe,” Clint admits, and his fingers hesitate against her shoulders. “That was selfish of me, though. I’m sorry. I never asked you what you were thinking. Or feeling. I never asked you much of anything.”

Kate rolls over. “Clint,” she says, “when I’m not at my own apartment, I’m at yours.”

They stare at each other and Clint frowns.

“My favorite color is purple. Regardless of yours.”

Now he smiles. He kisses her and his mouth is rough and warm, and she leans into it. 

“You should keep the scruff,” she says, running her thumb over his jaw. He looks at her with a confused frown. “I’ve always wondered what beard burn felt like.”

Now he grins, grabbing her around the waist and pressing their mouths together.

Kate doesn’t complain as he moves down the bed and tugs her legs apart again, licking her still-tingling clit obediently. She squeezes her thighs against his head and grabs his hair and finds out that beard burn, even though she wouldn't exactly describe it as a beard yet, is spectacular.


End file.
